


a lesson in SOULs

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Coming Untouched, Cross (X-tale) - Freeform, Dust (Dusttale) - Freeform, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, Horror (Horrortale) - Freeform, Killer (Killertale) - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmare (Dreamtale) - Freeform, Safewords, Soul Cunnilingus, Soul Sex, at this rate ill make this a tag on my own, bad sans poly - Freeform, puts head in my hands.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: Dust huffed through his nose again, louder, and unzipped his hoodie.They were all fucked up; it was almost comical thatheof all people was the one best suited for this. He shoved his hand under his shirt, bunching it up on the way to his ribcage. His SOUL manifested itself and he pulled it out with little fanfare, holding the heavy organ from falling to the floor.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 155





	a lesson in SOULs

**Author's Note:**

> iceberg slime soul iceberg slime soul iceberg slime soul

Dust fidgeted in place, looking over his lovers with a crease in his nasal bridge. “Why do you need mine, specifically?”

It was Killer who replied, his usual lack of a filter rearing its head once again. “‘Cuz mine’s weird and Horror’s is ninety percent shell.”

Horror flushed, looking away, but he couldn’t really argue, since it was true. Dust shot him a smile, hoping to let him know it wasn’t a bad thing, and then turned a glare towards Killer.

“That still leaves Cross as a candidate,” he huffed.

Cross shied away, wrapping his hand around one of the straps crossing his chest, gripping it. “Mine’s uh… just a half, so…”

Dust huffed through his nose again, louder, and unzipped his hoodie. They were all fucked up; it was almost comical that _he_ of all people was the one best suited for this. He shoved his hand under his shirt, bunching it up on the way to his ribcage. His SOUL manifested itself and he pulled it out with little fanfare, holding the heavy organ from falling to the floor.

Papyrus wasn’t on board with the idea, telling him in excruciating detail how easily each of them could dust him, as ironic as it sounded.

But he trusted them all, and who cared that Killer had no less than six knives on him and could stab one into the SOUL faster than Dust could cry out? He always had that many knives on him. Who cared that Horror could crush it into a pulp with no effort at all? He was always conscious of his strength, and never would do that. Nightmare didn’t need to even be close to break it, a single tentacle was enough, but they were all slack behind him, only the tips of them wiggling, and his eyelight was full of curiosity more than anything else. And Cross… he wouldn’t. This, Dust knew.

It was easy (or so he told himself) to ignore Papyrus’ words and hand the SOUL over to Killer.

It wouldn’t be the first time, and probably not the last one, either, but it _was_ the first time there were so many ~~threats~~ of them around.

“I’ll make it good,” Killer said with a wink, but he took the organ with utmost care, fingers barely touching it.

“Please say we’re not doing this in the kitchen,” Dust deadpanned back, earning himself a wicked grin.

But before Killer could further ruin it, Horror spoke up, a single, commandeering, “No.”

Nightmare chuckled and wrapped his tentacles around them, one for each of them, like it was meant to be so, but Dust had never been one for such thoughts. The Void touched them, or maybe they touched it, but it was only a split second, and then they were in Nightmare’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure if it still counted as _his,_ considering all of them found their way to it at night.

And it was always an ordeal to get situated on the bed, despite the fact that it was the size of two king-sized ones smushed together, but this time went surprisingly smooth. Dust was ordered to sit against the headboard, propped up by the veritable pile of pillows that just seemed to keep growing.

Everyone else got seated around him, in a not-quite half-circle. Dust found himself fidgeting again, feeling all their attention, but thankfully Killer distracted him from it before Papyrus could start up his tirade again.

“Okay, so step one is breaking through the shell,” he said, holding the SOUL he’d been entrusted with up. Everyone watched the bright way it glowed, almost purple around the edges. Killer dragged a phalanx over the length of it, from the tip to the crease between the bells, and Dust shuddered at the feeling.

Despite Dust’s LV, the SOUL’s shell wasn’t all that thick; countless fluctuations kept it from hardening, but the surface was littered in faint red from where the DT mended cracks and scratches. It gave way all too easily when he pressed the tip of his finger against it, slipping into the swirling magic within.

That pulled out a shaky moan from Dust. He could feel Nightmare’s eyelight flicking between his face and the SOUL, and he wouldn’t put it past him to be taking extensive mental notes. Killer massaged around the crack with his thumbs, chipping off more of the shell to make it bigger. Soon enough, he was able to fit both of those thumbs in.

As the magic swirled inside the SOUL, so it did inside his pelvis, gathering there under his clothes, unbidden. It barely shone through the fabric, but he was sure everyone noticed.

“That’s natural,” Killer said, and Dust was glad for it, really. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to string together an explanation himself, or even any kind of a sentence, not with the lump in his throat and his ribcage rattling.

“How does it feel?” Nightmare asked, as Killer kept moving his fingers. His bones felt on fire, all of his marrow hot enough to boil, but he couldn’t articulate that. And then Killer hooked one of his thumbs and rubbed at the shell from the inside.

Dust cried out, clawing at the sheets in search of something to provide him grounding, but without much luck.

“He told me,” Horror said, and his voice sounded far away, quiet through the haze in Dust’s skull, but also gruff with hunger, the same hunger obvious in his eye. “...that it feels like… like he’s bein’ eaten. Like… he’s bein’ touched all over… hot and nice…”

Dust nodded furiously, all the input he could offer. His magic heated past the point of what he believed possible, and with a crackle of static, snapped into place, now much more obvious in its glow, even through the clothes.

“You could technically block the pelvis and make him come without his ecto summoned,” Killer told Nightmare, chipping another bit of the shell away, “Makes some great noises, but I don’t recommend more than two orgasms or he’ll pass out.”

Dust could remember that night, even if it was in bits and pieces. What Killer failed to mention was the fact that he’d used his SOUL like a fleshlight. He bucked up into nothing, pants uncomfortably tight and providing no friction, but he couldn’t bring his hands to move from where they were fisted into the sheets.

“Okay,” he said, as he pulled his thumbs out. The lilac magic gushed out through the hole, down the crease of the bells, and spattered over the bed. Killer’s hands were completely soaked in it. “Next up, you eat it out.”

To demonstrate, he brought the organ up to his face and stuck his tongue out, wagging it teasingly at Dust before licking along the chipped, dull edges of the shell. Dust threw his head back, a loud, “Fuck!” leaving through his grit teeth.

“Just like a pussy,” Killer tried to say, but it came out muffled, his tongue as deep in the SOUL as he could get it without making it longer on purpose. Dust only keened because he was literally eating him out, and he could feel every last bit of intent pouring off of him.

He could also feel the sharp grin, all that self-satisfaction and — fuck — all the love, too, poured into him in spades. Killer pulled away, but not before one last lick. His face was stained in lilac, dripping down his mandibles but he didn’t seem bothered by it, just licked it off his teeth the best he could.

“I can’t talk like that,” he muttered, and then passed the SOUL to Horror who took it equally gently, cupping it in his large hand like it belonged there. “Horror can show you, he’s best at it anyway.”

Dust had to agree there, in the few seconds of reprieve he was allowed. Horror was all but drooling, his tongue licking into him as if he was the tastiest meal imaginable. Nightmare always said Killer had a silver tongue, but Dust thought if that were so, Horror had to have a golden one. It was _big,_ and his SOUL felt overfull when it plunged in, lapping at _all_ of him.

Dust relaxed into the pillows even as his hips arched up and off the mattress in time with the tongue fucking into him. Horror was always so enthusiastic, and Dust found it so easy to let himself be cocooned in the loving intent that was all but shoved into him.

Killer was saying something to the others, but Dust couldn’t parse the words over the slick sounds accompanying Horror’s ministrations. Without even being touched, he felt so close, a coil of magic winding itself taut in his stomach. Everything felt hot and wet and _so much,_ but he couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much.

The cresting felt eternal, like a slowly rising tide that swallowed him up, carrying him with it into darkness. His entire body shuddered, shorts ruined further. There was a low, long whine in his acoustic meatuses, and it took entirely too long to realize it was coming from himself.

Horror had pulled his tongue out, instead lapping up the magic from the shell, and then from his fingers, like he didn’t want a drop to be wasted. His eye was trained onto Dust’s flushed face, and felt so intimate that he had to look away.

“—it’s all about the intent, really.” He only caught the tail end of Killer’s speech, sounding like he was underwater. Dust’s body felt weightless, and there was a momentary lapse in the white noise of voices in the back of his mind, as always after he came. He spent a few seconds reveling in it, a soft, content sigh leaving him.

“It seems… a bit intense. He hadn’t said a word since you started.” That was Nightmare, a bit more concerned than Dust was used to hearing him. He wondered what he looked like, if there _was_ a reason to be worried.

He felt great.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Dust, can you gimme the safeword?”

It took a moment for his mind to clear of the wonderful haze, but he did as requested — a bone came from the floor on the left of the bed.

“Good boy. Left means stop, right is slow down,” Killer explained.

Nightmare hummed, as if in thought. “I suppose that works if he goes non-verbal. Does the safeword stand or can we keep going?”

Dust cracked open a socket, his attempt at a grin wobbly and lopsided, but the bone disappeared back into the floorboards.

“Cross can show you how to finger him real good.”

The SOUL was passed along, and despite the fact that Dust himself wasn’t moving an inch, it felt vulgar. Not that he was opposed.

Cross held him gently but firmly. He was careful as he slipped a finger into the organ, little thrusts until it was fully in, almost touching the back side of it. Dust’s ecto-body, still not dissolved, took immediate interest in the gentle touches, cock straining in his shorts once again. Honestly, they could’ve at least undressed him, but it wasn’t like the clothes weren’t ruined already.

He’d make them do the laundry for this.

“Here, try it,” someone said, and then there was another hand on him, cold and less assured.

Cross guided Nightmare to press a pair of fingers into the SOUL. Dust made a noise in the back of his throat. The cold was unfamiliar, but he found himself craving more of it.

“Like Killer did — here, the shell is sensitive inside.” Cross’ warm finger and Nightmare’s cold ones rubbed along the inside of the crack, and Dust felt like a livewire.

Release crashed over him fast and hard this time, entire body seizing up. He wasn’t sure whose name he was trying to call out, but he didn’t get past the first syllable anyways, so it didn’t matter.

The next thing he was aware of was an emptiness; both of them pulled their fingers out, and Nightmare held his SOUL like it was a precious jewel. Like he was something to be cherished and protected.

It almost brought him to tears, but he reasoned he was still out of it from the overstimulation.

“With us… lambchop?” Horror asked, so Dust nodded. His mind felt like cotton, and his limbs like jello, but he didn’t feel like he’d pass out. Not yet, anyway.

“And that’s pretty much it,” Killer said. Dust could see him shrugging as Nightmare rubbed his thumb over one of the SOUL’s bells. 

Dust purred, sockets falling shut at the pleasant sensation. If he kept it up, he really would fall asleep.

“I appreciate the lesson,” Nightmare said, and then returned the SOUL to its rightful place, slowly smoothing Dust’s shirt back down as he pulled away.

“This turned into less of a _‘how to please a SOUL,’_ and more of a _‘how to fuck Dust up,’”_ he muttered, but his purr was still steady and loud. Another one joined it, and then another and another, until it was all that filled the silence, as brief as it was.

“Oh, I fully expect another lesson, and soon,” Nightmare drawled. “I need to know how to do this—” Dust felt more than saw the pointed once-over their boss gave him, “—to all of you.”

“I volunteer to show you,” Dust said, “But like, please clean me up now. I can’t move.”

There was a chorus of chuckles that should’ve made him mad, but instead made him feel warm inside. They weren’t laughing _at_ him. It hadn’t really been true; if he really wanted to, he could go clean up, but he really _didn’t_ want to.

He was scooped up in a pair of tentacles — or maybe three of them? He wasn’t quite sure — and lifted.

“Of course. You were a terrific example, little bunny. Let us take care of you,” Nightmare told him, cradling him close as he was carried towards the bathroom.

And just because he could, Dust closed his sockets and let himself drift. He knew they would, he trusted all of them.

After all, they’d just held the culmination of all that was _him,_ and just showered it with nothing but love.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @esqers


End file.
